Don't Fail Me Now
by Gypsied To Kill
Summary: Remus is away, so Sirius broods and snoops. What does he find?


Sirius hears the faint click of the door as Remus leaves. He lays in bed for a minute, motionless and thoughtless, taking in the quiet amber light of the morning and the lingering smell of the man who just walked out the door. His brain slowly begins to awaken, and he rubs the fuzzy remnants of sleep from his eyes. Time to start the day, his begrudging mind says.

The flat is morose without Remus. James, Peter and Lily all profess suspicion, but his sudden, unexpected absences make Sirius more lonely than anything. He knows that Remus is working for Dumbledore, on missions for the Order to coax the werewolves away from Voldemort and the dark side, but he can't help but wonder about the spontaneous nature of the missions. Since their sixth year in school, there have been no secrets between Sirius and Remus. Sirius kissed Remus under the leafy roof of the forbidden forest one evening, and piece by piece, they tore away their carefully built shields, confessing things so deep-rooted and sincere that Remus tasted of salt when they kissed again.

Sirius wanders the flat relentlessly for three days, trying to convince himself that running a cloth in a narrow swipe over a table qualifies as dusting, thus making his Moments Without Remus productive. His mind, dastardly organ that it is, begins to contemplate Remus' absences. There is a traitor among the order. That much is common knowledge, and Sirius has not allowed himself to think too much upon it, worried that he will jump to incorrect conclusions.

Sometimes, though, a man simply can't help himself.

His imagination takes him down the What-If-Remus-Is-The-Traitor path. He sees himself as Padfoot, coming upon Moony during one of his transformations, his muzzle covered in the blood of an order member, Dumbledore, or perhaps Moody. He sees Remus, his face empty of heart, devoid of That Which Makes Him Remus, standing in the doorway of the Order's headquarters, wand in cold hand, a pack of vicious-looking Death Eaters spread in a V behind him. He stares into the imaginary empty eyes of his lover and understands why people go mad with love and heartache, why those scored by lovers take their own lives, and why he is reluctant to allow himself to entertain thoughts such as, "What if Remus is the traitor?"

On the third day Sans Remus, it begins to rain and Sirius sits for an hour looking out the window and tracing the patterns of the droplets on the glass. He charms five of the drops to spell out "REMUS" on the pane, but it disappears as soon as he drops his wand back to his side. He sits at Remus' desk and slouches over the book laying open on the wooden surface. He smells the yellowed parchment and it reminds him of Remus. He keeps his mind carefully empty, choosing to love Remus rather than suspect him.

He opens the drawer to his right, wondering if he'll find one of the muggle ink pens that Remus is so fond of using, the ones that leave black and blue stains on his fingers and wrists. Instead, he sees a single roll of parchment, tied with what looks like a leather shoestring from one of Remus' ratty old boots, sitting in the bottom of the deep drawer.

Sirius hesitates, recalling his traitorous suspicions, but his fingers seem to grasp the roll, untie the leather string, and unroll the parchment of their own accord. He is surprised to see his own name at the top of the paper, underneath a date some two weeks earlier.

_9 April 1974_

_Sirius,_

_I know you don't attend with flowing, eloquent professions of adoration, or indeed any sort of romanticism, or with much sentimentality at all, really, but I find that there are a few thoughts that I simply need to make tangible. Words have always served me well, and I hope they hold true now, for these things must be said correctly, else they will not mean what I intend them to mean._

_I am terribly in love with you. I realize that I say this quite a lot, but I don't think you understand how really desperately I love you. Every movement you make, every word you say, every glance, every touch reminds me how improbable and nearly laughable it is that someone like you is happy with someone like me. You make me delirious. I am obsessed with you. If I had my way, I would never leave your side, because it is only when I can sense you, smell you, taste you that I am safe. This is a dangerous world, especially for a wizard, especially for a werewolf, but you are my fortress, and that means more to me than any gift or sentence ever could. Thank you._

_I know that you've thought, if only briefly, what if I am the traitor? It would be unlike your intricate and intelligent mind not to look at every possible angle, and I am a very easy person to suspect. I spend too much time with the enemy not to be a likely candidate for betrayal. I assure you, my most trusted confidant, that I am not the one passing information to the Dark Lord. I take my status as werewolf liaison and the danger in which it puts me very seriously. I have reasons for not telling you when I'll be gone and where I'm going, not the least of which being that it would put you in danger, and that is the last thing I want. You are safer in the dark, even if it does hurt both of us for me to lie. I hope this puts your mind to rest a bit. It pains me horribly to see your constantly knit brow, the way your hands shake, and the way you shiver at night, even though I wrap myself around you. (My unusually high body temperature is a side effect of being a werewolf, and why I never have to wear a thick jumper.)_

_Though not littered with witticisms as were the letters of our school days, I hope you have followed this and taken something from it. I also hope that it does not mean that I have died in the war and you have found this searching through my desk for my will. (Though I have little to give, it is all yours, and my will is in the heel of the left member of the boots from which the leather string was taken.) If I am gone, I hope this letter gives you solace and that you will not mourn too deeply. I love you, Sirius, alive or not, and you must remember that. This war will take many lives, and if I have aided in the fight against the dark in any way, I will not consider my death to have been in vain. I have lived, I have fought for a cause in which I believe deeply, and I have loved and been loved in return. I consider my love for you my greatest attribute. You are truly the best part of me. Thank you for putting up with me, for being with me, and for loving me._

_I love you,_

_Remus_

Sirius is startled to find droplets upon the parchment in his hands. He blows feebly on it twice and rolls it back up, tying it with the leather string and replacing it carefully in the drawer. His mind is fuzzy and perhaps a walk in the rain will help.

Remus unlocks the door to his flat softly. It's nearly midnight and the settled quiet inside tells him that Sirius is either out or asleep. He tiptoes across the carpet and peeks in the bedroom. No Sirius.

He drops his tattered duffel bag beside the bed, kicks off his shoes, and pads into the bathroom, stripping off the rest of his clothing along the way and dropping it on the floor. He smiles when he sees a new curtain adorning the small shower. It's patterned with black puppies rolling in beds of technicolor flowers. A bit tacky, but the sentimentality behind the curtain is apparent. He twists the knobs to turn on the water and stands beneath the spray, letting it wash away the stench of evil wolf and ease the tension in his thin shoulders. He is very glad to be home.

After his shower, Remus crawls into bed wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants. He tucks the blanket in around his body, makes a warm pocket for his feet, and breathes in the scent of Sirius on the pillows. He drifts off waiting for his heart to come home.

Remus awakes, disoriented. He raises himself up onto his elbows and stares as hard as his sleep-befuddled mind can manage at the door. He hears the quick pound of running feet seconds before Sirius is airborne above him. He lands on all fours, supporting himself on the balls of his feet and his hands on either side of Remus' body. Remus stares into that maniacally grinning face with the love-softened eyes and can't help but grin back.

Sirius drops his body on top of Remus' and presses his lips to Remus' chin. He smells like soap and home. Remus wiggles the blanket from between their bodies and pulls it up over Sirius' back. They melt together and for the first time in three nights, they both sleep soundly.


End file.
